Money For Free
by RyDeNiSlOvE
Summary: When Kyle works with Kenny on a physics project and starts associating with Craig, his life begins to fall apart. He needs to control his anger and emotion, and possibly even gain something from it...
1. Prologue

Prologue. Fate

In September in Colorado the sky often seems to come down with a very severe case if diarrhea. Really, it was disgusting, a sort of sludgy mix between snow and water. There was no summer here, because summers aren't a consistent 20 degrees Fahrenheit, and the sun is supposed to be out, and Jesus Christ, this was America , not the North fucking Pole.

And there I was, freezing my balls off at the school and waiting for something to happen. Come fifth grade, everything even remotely exciting ceased to happen-not saying the previous year was fun, at all, just that it wasn't boring like middle school and now high school. No one changed. Kenny continued to whore around with his little butt buddy Craig, Stan continued to be the star of the football team, Butters continued to be, well, Butters, Pip and Damien continued to be, respectively, British and Satanic, Token and Clyde and them-well, you get the picture.

All was normal and all was well.

Until this fateful day. The beginning of the beginning. The first day of a new adventure in my majorly fucked up life.


	2. Ch 1 Mass, Density, and Other Shit

1. Mass, Density, and Other Shit

Kenny approached me, smiling giddily, with a perpetually pissed off Craig trailing along behind him. Kenny ran up and threw his arms around me despite my frantic protesting, swinging me back and forth before letting go and stepping back. Craig shot him a dirty look, slipping an arm around him protectively.

"Hey now," Kenny said to him, nuzzling his face into Craig's neck as he spoke. "That ginger smartass is no competition for you." Kenny grabbed at Craig's crotch playfully, earning the smallest hint at a smile and a joking hit to the back of his blonde head.

"Dude," Craig laughed, stepping away from Kenny.

I would feel offended by Kenny's put down, but I know he's kidding.

"So Kyle."

"Yeah." I kept having to pull myself back to reality from God knows where--I was so unbelievably tired that I couldn't even focus on anything, especially Kenny's idiot antics.

"That project in physics."

"Yes, Kenny." I sighed irately, turning my gaze from the sleet falling to look at a smirking moron in an orange jacket. Craig seemed to be contenting himself by playing absently with his hat, looking at the ground where icy puddles were forming.

"So we get to work with a group and you should work with me and Craig here."

I looked up to Craig to see exactly how displeased with this idea he would be. He was actually smiling--faintly, yes, but still--so I shrugged. "Sure." So much for being a smartass. I didn't even know what we were studying in the class--let alone what the project was.

"Cool. Anyway, though, Craig's ass is feeling very empty and lonely, so, you know, gotta go attend to that."

I grinned at his attempt at vagueness, replying distantly. "I have to go find Stan anyway...see you guys after school?"

"Yeah!" Kenny grabbed Craig's arm, kissing his lips firmly before dragging him off to the bathrooms. I departed in a sleep deprived haze, thinking hard about what my schedule was.


	3. Ch 2 The Back Door

2. The Back Door

Craig opened the front door to Kenny's house, letting me in with a mumbled hello. I paused to look at him in his current state, eyes raking over his bare chest and resting on a very noticeable bulge in his P.E. shorts. Damn, he was hot.

I laughed nervously as Craig tried to smooth his tousled hair. "Did I…come at a bad time?"

Before Craig could respond, an equally underdressed Kenny appeared out of nowhere, hugging Craig from behind. "No, but Craig will!" Kenny laughed maniacally, slipping a hand down the front of Craig's shorts. Craig gasped and squirmed, turning around to slap Kenny across the face.

"Fuck you, Kenny!" He was yelling but still laughing. "Seriously, dude."

I watched their display with an air of mild amusement.

"So, let's get to work. What do we have to do for this thing?"

Kenny pointed towards the kitchen, looking thoughtful for a moment before he spoke. "All the stuff's in there, so…yeah." He headed towards the kitchen, and a flustered Craig and I followed.

I soon found myself sitting at Kenny's dirty table on a rather dilapidated chair across from him and his impassive boyfriend, watching listlessly as Kenny explained the project to me. Craig was acting peculiar, for him, because I didn't think he had a tic or a problem with seizures or anything. He had his head down on the table with one arm hanging off, every once in a while twitching violently or making a small sound. He was almost acting like a less paranoid and neurotic version of Tweek. I raised an eyebrow at this, looking to Kenny.

"Dude, is he sleeping? He keeps…spazzing…"

Kenny chuckled darkly. "Sleeping? I should hope not."

"Ken, what the fuck did you do to him?"

He was silent for a moment, and Craig flinched savagely.

"Nothing."

"Then what _are_ you doing?"

He was smiling like a lunatic. "Ah, smart Kyle!" Craig convulsed with a strangled noise and became still, laying in silence on the kitchen table. Kenny cleared his throat loudly.

"Kyle, can I use your scarf?"

I stared at him for a moment before realizing how cold he probably was. "Sure." I unwrapped it from my neck and handed it across to him, watching as he took it under the table. Not long after, he gave it back to me in a heap with no noticeable differences. I unraveled it carefully, and flung it back at him just as fast.

"Aw, fucking sick!"

Kenny caught the scarf, which was partly covered in a viscous white substance.

"Jesus Christ!"

Craig lifted his face, which was flushed pink, and turned to glare at Kenny. "You goddamn asshole! You totally fucked up my shorts! I'm gonna fucking kill you!" Craig sure had a way with words. I wondered momentarily whether he first learned how to speak from a sailor or something.

Kenny held up my scarf. "Chill out, man, that's what I was trying to fix."

Craig flipped him off and Kenny moved to the other chair to sit sideways in his lap.

"You guys," I groaned, annoyed. "Let's just do the stupid homework. Fuck."

"Craig came at a bad time!" Kenny exclaimed, gathering up the lab papers.

"Kenny…" I dragged out his name, whining like a little girl but then again not particularly caring as long as they stopped screwing around and focused for more than three seconds.

"Okay. Let's start with picking the ten liquids. Any ideas?"

Kenny's hand shot into the air before I even finished my sentence.

"Any school-appropriate ideas?" I amended, watching unimpressed as Kenny slowly lowered his hand.

"Dude," Craig said, at last a phrase that wasn't 'fuck you Kenny'. "Kenny probably doesn't even have water for us to put the stuff in."

I sighed. "Let's just go down to Stark's Pond and stop by the store on the way there. Given that Ken has nothing here that we could use."

Craig opened is mouth to dismiss my plan but I cut him off. "I have money, so don't worry."

I stood as to motivate action in the other two and began to button up my coat.

"Hmm," Kenny murmured, more to Craig than me. "How about me and Craig stay here and finish what we started…?"

I was beginning to get really pissed at Kenny.

"Kenny, please. You assholes recruited me for this pointless project, and you're doing it. Up and out the door. Go."

Dutifully, the two stood up and obeyed my instructions, exiting the shabby house.

"Should I lock the door?" I asked after closing it behind me.

"Doesn't really matter," Kenny said slowly, smirking. "We usually just use…the back door."

Craig gave him a look of displeasure, rolling his eyes and kicking a rock off the doorstep. The sleet had reduced itself to rain by then, drizzling miserably around. We walked in silence for the most part, the weather temporarily silencing Kenny's advances on Craig. Thank God for that-I was almost starting to get jealous.


	4. Ch 3 Narnia

3. Narnia

I didn't go to Stark's Pond much, though I knew Kenny and Craig often did. I could see why-it was sure as hell better than either of their houses. Kenny was currently dipping his bare toes into the pond and complaining about how cold it was and that the temperature prevented him from swimming. Craig was reminding him of the fact that you asshole it's normally frozen solid and that they could-seductive voice-keep warm easy enough anyway.

Meanwhile, I was filling paper cups with pond water, slaving over the stupid balance to get all ten the exact same mass. Physics was so tedious and pointless. And I would obviously be yelling at the hooded imbeciles by the water, but it was kind of a one person job anyway.

As if they would actually help me. They were always too busy fucking each other to do really anything. Except smoking, of course. And in Craig's case, being unspeakably hot. But I felt guilty for noticing those things because he was Kenny's boyfriend and my dumb attraction towards him didn't really matter.

"Kyle."

I guess I just wished sometimes someone would want me like Kenny wanted Craig.

"_Kyle_."

"Hmm?"

"This is _eight_ liquids."

I grumbled something incoherent even to me and Kenny sighed irritably.

"Go back to the store and get something," he ordered, looking down at me with his hands on his hips.

"Just use the blood from your PMSing vagina!" I shot back at him.

He scoffed. "That's nine, Mister Four-Point-Oh."

"You know what, you go get something! Seeing as you haven't helped at all." I shoved two dollars into the palm of his hand, glaring daggers at him. Huffily, he turned away to walk out of sight and presumably towards downtown.

I was left alone and pissed off with an ever stoic Craig, who was looking at me with a mixture of amusement and his general contempt. After he was sure Kenny was gone, he addressed me with a slightly more interested than usual voice.

"So Kyle, what ever happened to you and Kenny? He would never tell me."

I felt some of the color draining from my face. What the hell was Craig _talking_ for? "Come on, that only lasted, like, a week," I responded, feeling slightly detached from my body.

"I still wanna know. It's so hard to understand that kid."

After all, having a somewhat meaningful conversation with Craig Tucker was about the equivalent of flying to Neptune on a carpet and finding a Chinese restaurant there and sitting down to lunch with your twenty years dead mother. And then going into the kitchen of the restaurant and being transported to Narnia.

But going on with the topic, I laughed bitterly. "Well, this won't help you, trust me." Fucking Kenny.

"Come on, Kyle."

I looked away from him, down at the wet soil. "It was cause I wouldn't fuck him, okay?"

A momentary quiet fell over us before Craig, with minor difficulty, lifted it. "Oh. That…sucks."

"And that's why you're a lot better for him."

He was silent again. I guessed he didn't have an argument for that, mainly because I was right.

"Why didn't you?"

I sighed. "I didn't want to."

He seemed to have a fair amount of trouble comprehending this statement.

"Huh?"

"I _said_-"

"I know, just…huh."

"Yeah."

He adjusted his dark blue hat on his head, looking into the pond from the rock he was sitting on.

"Because he's a guy?"

"Craig, I'm probably more of a flaming faggot than the two of you combined. It was most certainly not that. Nor was it anything else I can name, so please, just fuck off."

I didn't want to be harsh with him, but even less did I want to discuss my short lived relationship with Kenny.

"What if it was me?" he asked quietly, voice low yet breathy.

I felt my cock twitch inside my jeans and my face start to go red, looking away uncomfortably. I heard him hop off his little perch on the rock and start walking over to where I was sitting. He had to be kidding me.

"I don't know," I answered, before I said something closer to yes. He sat down next to me, close, arm snaking around my shoulders.

"Hmm?"

I shrugged him off, moving away. "Dude, you're with Kenny."

"Nah, not really. It's nothing official…we just…well, you know."

"He loves you, Craig," I said desperately, pushing him away. I could not and would not support Craig's cheating, no matter how tempting it was.

"C'mon, Kyle, don't you want to?" I looked up at the inviting smile stretched across his usually solemn face.

"Don't you care about Kenny?" I asked incredulously.

"Yeah, and I know him pretty damn well, enough to know he wouldn't give a shit what I do with who."

It was an eternal mystery how he always kept his voice so even all the time, but mine was steadily rising both in pitch and loudness.

"I seriously cannot believe-"

Roughly, he turned my face to his, interrupting me with his mouth on mine and calming me with soft, warm lips. It took everything I had to pull away, leaving me with little to glare at him with.

"Kyle…"

However badly my stupid teenage hormones wanted Craig, I was most certainly not about to betray my best friend. I looked away from Craig, still feeling a ghost of the delicious contact and the taste of cigarette smoke fresh on my lips. His hands were on my waist, gently massaging, trying to seduce me as if he hadn't already.

"Craig," I said carefully. "This isn't you, you-you don't even do this to Kenny, please get off of me, please." I was shaking as he lifted himself to his feet gracefully and walked away, returning to his rock and burying his face in his hands. He was silent and I proceeded to pace back and forth nervously until Kenny returned, drinking from a carton of orange juice.

"Hey dudes."

He handed the juice to me to use for our project, stretching lazily. "We should go swimming."

I stopped walking to look at Kenny and Craig remained still. "I dunno, I don't really feel like it." It _was_ cold, and I was still in complete shock from Craig coming onto me like that. Kenny made his way over to Craig, climbing up onto the rock and putting his arms around Craig's thin frame. Craig's response was to bring his knees up to his chest, removing one hand from his face and sticking his middle finger high in the air before taking it back.

"Honey, what's wrong?" he whined obnoxiously, kissing Craig's fine black hair. Craig grumbled into his knees, moving away from Kenny.

"Kyle, what the fuck…"

Angry at Kenny blaming Craig's emotional instability on me, I turned to the paper cups, squeezing hand sanitizer violently into the pond water and watching it sink. I still shook slightly as I moved it onto the balance and watched the device calculate its properties.

Kenny whispered something to Craig, sounding concerned, but the latter still refused to speak.

"Ken," I said quietly, gently. "Just leave him alone."

He gave me that same look of not understanding that Craig had earlier, continuing to try fruitlessly to comfort the other.


	5. Ch 4 More Fate?

4. More Fate?

That may not seem like a fateful day, but it was indeed. Because I think that the day preceding a fateful day is also fateful in its own way. What happened the previous day set up the fate. It triggered the rather unfortunate turn of events that came around in the afternoon.

The first thing that was different was Kenny. When I met him by the school's entrance, not only did he not run up and molest me, he was missing his Siamese twin. And that was important. Strange and important.

"I suppose you finally got that umbilical cord cut?"

He didn't seem to find my comment at all funny.

"Well, is he home sick?"

"No," he answered lightly, shaking his head to emphasize the negative. "He's here." Kenny was silent for a moment, looking at the wet cement. "Oh, yeah, and by the way, now I'm working with Token on the project."

He seemed to be avoiding eye contact with me, definitely, definitely not his usual bubbly self.

"Kenny…what's up." It was said as a statement and not a question.

"Mn."

"Ken…"

"Craig," he mumbled at the ground.

"What about him?"

Kenny sighed heavily and looked up at the sky, which had been raining sporadically throughout the morning. It chose that moment to start pissing rain again, and Kenny's gaze fell back to the cement.

"He's not…he didn't…nnn. He wanted to…'take a break'." He said the last phrase with slight anger, making quotes in the air with his fingers.

I was completely silent, standing still and refusing to look at him.

"I…can't imagine why," he added softly.

I looked back to him, composing myself with a deep, even breath. "Me neither."

And I hoped I didn't.


	6. Ch 5 Convince Me

5. Convince Me

Unfortunately for me, I had resigned myself to the fact that I couldn't just abandon the physics project and work with Token too. Craig sat cross-legged and emotionless on my bed, and I was at my desk copying data onto another paper. Craig had the balance on his lap, weighing random items he could reach from his spot until he got bored with that and collapsed onto his side.

"I'm not with Kenny anymore," he said matter of factly, and I ignored him deliberately, continuing my work.

"So…"

He must have been extremely adamant about getting what he wanted if it meant actually communicating with another human being that wasn't named Kenny McCormick. I sighed heavily. "Why would I?" There's nothing in it for me."

"Ohh, there's _plenty_ in it for you."

"Yeah? Are you gonna stop bugging me about it?"

"Yeah." At first I wasn't sure whether to believe him about it or not, but I decided after a minute or so that he wasn't lying, and that it was worth it anyway. It was just too weird for Craig to act like this, too sad for him to abandon Kenny, who loved him, for someone like me.

"Okay." I stared at the carpet, waiting for him to do something.

"Well then. Come over here."

Cautiously, I stood up and walked over to my bed, sitting awkwardly beside him, still looking at the floor.

Craig smirked obnoxiously, sliding closer to me and pressing his face into my neck. His hand crept up my thigh, fingers tracing over the growing bulge in my jeans as his lips moved absently against the hot skin of my neck. They curved into a confident smile, making me lean into him, and he climbed over me.

"Craig," I said quietly, shuddering as he slowly pushed his hips down into mine. Thinking up so many different excuses has left me with an all too valid one. Kenny wanted to come over that day-well, I convinced him into it-so that I could play therapist in his time of need.

"Craig, Kenny's coming over…"

He moved up to press his lips to mine, speaking quietly in return. "Then I guess we have to be fast…"

He slipped warm, deft hands into the sides of my jeans, pulling them down and out of the way so he could have the access he needed. I shivered violently at being exposed to the cold air, and Craig smiled victoriously, grinding his fully clothed self into me.

Biting my lip hard to suppress a moan, I forced my hips back into his, panting heavily as we worked up an almost steady rhythm. I grasped at the belt loops of his pants, trying to pull him down harder, delighted at the feeling of the denim on my sensitive skin.

Suddenly, to my dismay, he pulled back, sliding off me and sitting by my side. I watched skeptically as he wriggled out of his pants, taking off his hat and running both hands through his jet black hair.

I felt my face heating up while I stared at him, his lips parted and legs open. I followed his hand with my eyes as it trailed down his chest and abdomen and began stroking absently at his enlarged cock. I allowed a soft groan to escape me at the sight, meeting his alluring gaze as he sped up the pace of his wrist. I squirmed as if paralyzed, or tied down, watching him open mouthed.

"Mmm, Kyle," he slurred, smiling at the way his voice made my throbbing member spasm. "Don't you wish…this was you instead?"

I nodded fervently, moaning softly at the look of desire he was giving me. Kenny, at this point, was entirely forgotten.

He whispered my name again as he took his hand back, using it to support himself ont the bed and leaning back. His legs spread further apart, tongue wetting his lips.

"Why don't you…help me out here…"

He smirked, and I stared at him nervously, biting my lip as I felt myself blushing yet again.

"Blow me," he ordered, voice barely more than a whisper. I hesitated for a moment before obliging, turning over onto my hands and knees and leaning over to take him into my mouth.

He whined loudly as I tried to familiarise myself with having something this amazingly fucking big in my mouth, lathing my tongue over the firm, hot skin. Bucking his hips up and threatening to choke me, Craig leaned even further back, head falling back and jaw hanging open.

I alternated between sucking and licking at his cock, grasping the base of it with both hands and making him moan blissfully. I teased the pulsating veins with the tip of my tongue, immensely pleased by the feel of the heat against the inside of my mouth, and sucked as hard as my cheeks would allow me until he came with a strangled noise, filling my mouth with a bitter liquid. I lingered there for a moment, glancing around and grabbing a water glass off my nightstand so I could spit the offending fluid into it.

Craig seemed to take a moment to get his breathing and heart rate back to normal before he assaulted me, pushing me onto my back.

"Kenny never made me feel this way," he breathed roughly onto my lips.

Our eyes locked and he started thrusting his hips down into mine, his hardening cock rubbing firmly against my still erect one. I struggled not to be too submissive towards him and held back another sound, not willing to let my guard down entirely.

He started talking in his ever captivating voice again, moving his legs up to straddle me. "And you haven't even come yet." He looked at me with mock accusation and leaned down. I made a small sound of pleasure in the back of my throat as his lips started to tease the sensitive skin of my neck.

"I think I need to try harder," he mused through his teeth and into my skin. "Before Kenny gets here. Or before you try and sue me."

I became still, all the color leaving my face, becoming aware of the situation. "_No way_ is that thing going in me. I'll never be able to move like a normal human being again."

"Oh?" He ran his fingers down the side of my face, which was now flushed red from a mixture of embarrassment and arousal. "So _you_ wanna _fuck_ me?"

I don't know if that was quite what I was insinuating, but I guess I wasn't really trying to imply anything. I was merely stating something to ensure my well being.

"I-no…"

He smiled sweetly, spreading my legs with his palms and lifting them up over his shoulders. "Then what do you suggest?"

I laid back and looked up at the ceiling, contemplating his question.

"Well," I began, but before I could make any suggestions, holy fucking hell. Craig, without my consent, had already pushed in about halfway, and it was almost what I'd expected. It was an extremely uncomfortable-but somehow inconceivably pleasurable-burning stretching feeling that made me glad Craig was a defiant asshole. To put it in short, it was somewhat like being sliced in half with a cutlass.

Regardless, I shoved my hips back into him, burying him deep inside me and listening to him moaning at the way my muscles kept contracting around him. He began pulling out and driving back in repeatedly, hitting the spot inside me that practically made me scream in rapture only a few times before I felt my orgasm nearing-I was already pretty worked up beforehand. I grasped the soft material of Craig's t-shirt and twisted it in my fists, hearing the bedroom door creak open as I tightened my legs around his neck and exploded all over his slick chest.

Craig whined quietly, laying by my side and wrapping his arms tightly around me. He pressed his face into my chest, our sweaty bodies held together by the force of his grasp on me.

"Craig?"

The voice was soft, and quiet, and shaking. It wasn't mine. I pulled Craig closer, kissing the top of his head reassuringly before turning to look at the intruder.

"Kyle…" he whispered hoarsely. "How could you just…"

I opened my mouth to try to save myself, but he had already turned away. I heard the front door shutting softly, and looked down at Craig.

"Fucking asshole," I muttered, soft and distant.

"Kenny?"

"No!" I was incredulous. "You! You convinced me into this mess! It's all your fault!" Regardless of my anger, I didn't pull away from him.

He sighed heavily. "Well, we _were_ pretty fast."

I couldn't believe he just said that.

"Fuck you, Craig."

"That's my line."

I got up off the bed, snatching my pants up off the floor and scowling at Craig.

"Get out," I demanded, almost feeling bad for blaming my shitty choices on his persuasion.

"Figuratively or-"

"Literally, Craig, get the fuck out of my house. God."

Craig slipped into his jeans with practiced ease, sauntering out the bedroom door with his head held high and making sure to deliberately brush against me as he left.


	7. Ch 6 Dios Mio! Mataron a Kenny!

6. ¡Dios Mio! ¡Mataron a Kenny!

Craig slammed the door shut, throwing me up against it. He dragged his tongue hungrily along my lower lip before holding me in an open kiss, forcing his hips into mine. I pulled my mouth back from his, breathing harshly into his neck and wrapping my arms around his middle.

"Mn, Craig, we don't have _time_ for this…"

"Fine," he said reluctantly (as I was right), bucking his hips up into mine and capturing my lips with his one last time before drawing back slowly.

I stood there panting, trying to will down or at least ignore my erection as he gathered his coat and scarf off the top of the couch.

"Okay, let's go."

His teasing smirk faded as he followed me out of his empty house, starting off down the street. We got to Kenny's "house" after a few blocks of quiet, and became still, solemn. I cleared my throat at the doorstep, gesturing towards the door.

"You go in," I said, breaking the uncomfortable silence. "You practically live here."

He rolled his eyes and stepped forward, walking in without knocking and heading in the direction of Kenny's room with me at his heels.

I had a strange sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach. A really bad feeling. The feeling one gets at the sickening click of a pistol, when they walk into a room full of strange sounds and can't see a thing and can't talk or scream or move and they know something horrible's about to happen. The feeling you get when your scalp itches and you reach up to scratch at it and you get a fistful of blood and skin and hair.

Something was just bad, in the stale air. Thick, like silence or darkness, or worse, both.

We entered the small bedroom together. Everything looked normal-messy, yes but normal. Clothes and magazines strewn across the floor, bed unmade with the sheets practically encased in white, other various and sometimes mildly disturbing items littered around.

Rain tapped gently on the single window.

Craig wandered over to Kenny's bathroom and I heard him suck in a slow shuddery breath.

My feeling of unease worsened, nausea creeping throughout my body.

I watched Craig pull something off the door-a folded piece of paper with both our names scrawled in pencil on the outside. Craig opened it, read it with a poker face, and gave it to me with out moving his empty gaze from the bathroom door.

_Kyle-I thought I could trust you.  
Craig-I thought I could love you._

I handed it back to Craig, wanting to break down in tears but feeling too sick, too sick to move.

The almost inaudible turn of a door's handle and the shrill pained screaming of the hinges as it opened could be heard. I dared not look in, letting Craig walk into the small room and close the door softly behind him. I waited, hearing a muffled, angry string of curses from beyond the door and then silence, stretching on until Craig finally exited, pushing past me with his eyes red and fists clenched. He slammed the bedroom door as he left the room, and I was left with a clear view into the bathroom.

As soon as I looked I turned away, clinging to the side of Kenny's bed and willing myself not to vomit. The image of Kenny was clearly imprinted on the backs of my eyelids. One end of the rope was tied to the bar where the tattered shower curtain was attached, the other loosely around his neck. The metal bent slightly with his weight, leaving his limp feet inches from the ground; his head fell to his right. Pale lips with a tint of blue in them just barely seen past his still shining blonde hair, a thin trail of red coming from the corner, dripping steadily into a thin crimson puddle on the concrete floor.

I felt my stomach churn uncomfortably just thinking about the sight.

With my head down, I walked quickly out of the room, finding Craig out in the hallway and wrapping my arms around him to comfort us both. He, however, made no move to reciprocate my actions, standing stiffly in my arms.

"Kyle," he said carefully. "He's gonna come back."

My stomach twisted sickeningly. "I…" I inhaled slowly, composing myself enough to talk. "I think…he won't."

I took my arms back, and he stared at me with dead gray-blue eyes. "He always comes back."

"He always wants to, Craig."

He looked down at the filthy carpet of the hallway. "But-"

He was in denial, and it was no use trying to argue with him. I had my opinion and he had his want for Kenny. Numbly, I turned away, starting towards the door, watching it in front of me, not willing to turn and face Craig when I felt tears welling up, eyelashes serving as a dam to keep them back, blurring my view of everything. I always thought Kenny rising from the dead was a choice. That only made sense.

I reached for the door handle, but drew back, realizing the obvious.

"C-Craig."

He was silent behind me but I knew he was listening.

"If…you're right…then he's just gonna keep dying. So-yeah." I didn't want to voice  
my concern; it would sound crude.

I wiped the tears from my face fervently, hating them there. They made me feel weak, and worse, they didn't even make sense. For years and years I had watched nonchalantly as Kenny died, each instance more gruesome than the last. And now? He was dead, again, and in a few days he would be fine and dandy. But this time it tore me apart, gradually, each stitch being cut until I fell apart at the seams.

I closed my eyes, cradling my head in my hands, standing still as my mind replayed and replayed the thin stream of blood and saliva that spilled from Kenny's lips onto the cold unforgiving floor beneath his feet. Stiff body suspended in midair, twisting slowly as its unseeing eyes fixed themselves on the cement.


	8. Ch 7 Rage Against

7. Rage Against

I followed Craig upstairs, fingers subconsciously kneading our lab papers into a crumpled mess of data. He seemed to be ignoring the fact that I was there at his house, happily willing to pretend I was invisible. He was retreating into that little depression shell of his that he always seemed to have at his convenience, which meant shutting the world out. He constantly radiated waves of Fuck Off, and voiced it quite bluntly if you weren't the perceptive type.

Though he wasn't the only one. I was, quite simply, pissed. At Craig, at Kenny, and-most of all-myself, for being a selfish moronic asshole. I, however, managed my anger in a slightly more productive manner than Craig, to the best of my ability channeling it into determination to accomplish random tasks.

Regardless, a lesson for all: Testosterone and angst is a deadly combination.

"Grumble grumble motherfucker grumble," said Craig darkly as we entered his somewhat destroyed bedroom. I expected he had exploded in somne fit of rage, tearing apart everything in reach. He surveyed the room carefully before walking to his bed and sitting on the edge.

I sighed, irritated.

"What." He was staring through me, blue eyes glazed over with an indifferent sort of grief. Indifferent grief-there's a new one.

"You're just…never mind." Being a total bitch? What could I tell him. His best friend just died. "Let's just finish this project."

"No," he said bluntly. "I am so not doing that."

I felt my temperature rising angrily. "Why, does it take away the time you could be spending sitting in corners feeling sorry for yourself?"

"Maybe," he said coolly, rising to his feet.

"What the hell you gonna do now, run away?" Words spilled from my mouth in blind fury, without me controlling their flow, or even particularly caring.

"The fuck-you know what, Kyle?"

I folded my arms across my chest, tone challenging. "What, Craig?"

"Fuck you."

He said it as two separate statements, hollow voice laced with venom.

"That was unexpected," I remarked dryly. "Surprising, you know? Spontaneous."

Lips pressed together in a thin line, eyes dark and dangerous, he stepped forward. Without seeing him move, raise a hand or otherwise, I felt a felt a hard impact on the side of my face. I brought a shaking hand up, figers touching against my jaw, pausing on the painful area before reaching out just as swiftly as he. I gripped his shoulder firmly and forced it away from me, making him stumble backwards at the sudden attack.

"Goddamnit, Kyle!"

He shoved me back, my back hitting the wall behind me in a sudden burst of pain. Seething silently, I narrowed my eyes as he stormed forward, gripping my arms and pinning me to the white wall.

"Gonna fight me, Tucker?" I asked snidely, with much more confidence than I actually had. He was known to be, though skinny-looking, rather deadly when it came to getting in fights.

"Kyle," he said delicately, though his voice was low and threatening. "There is no fucking way." He watched me with blackened eyes, fingers tightening around my wrist menacingly.

"On the floor," he commanded, releasing me and pointing at the carpet.

I rubbed at the little marks his fingernails left in my arm distractedly. "Hell no."

"This is your fault, Kyle," he told me, index finger still pointed at the floor.

I looked at him in whaat would have been utter disbelief if I didn't already know what he was like.

"Yeah."

I stepped away from him, towards the bed, _stupidly_, watching in dread as he followed me. I sat down, backing away as much as I could before he climbed over me and again held down my shoulders.

"It is," he finished, staring at me with a superior expression before. Slowly, torturously, he lowered his hips down into mine, grinding against me firmly as my eyes widened in horror. "And you're gonna pay the price."

He grasped my thin belt with one hand, tugging it down violently so my jeans rested just above my knees, and making a distracted sound of approval. The hand traveled uninterestedly past my hardening length, soft fingers rubbing absently at my entrance before one was pushed inside.

Well, that was nice of him, to prepare me before my punishment. Sort of. I closed my eyes, his touch letting me remember the first time I was with him, and how perfect it had felt-despite how totally un-perfect it really was.

I yelped in pain and forced my hips down, grunting as he shoved two more fingers into me, quite violently actually.

"Fucking hell, Craig!" I yelled angrily at him, about to explain to him that people were fragile and susceptible to hurting, but I couldn't find the words to express it and knew he wouldn't give a flying fuck even if I could. He glared down at me determinedly, removing his fingers.

"Kyle," he laughed mockingly. "You have absolutely no idea what's coming to you."

And I didn't. He said that in a way that meant he wasn't just planning on fucking me into the bed.

He ran his tongue across the edges of his top teeth as if inspecting the ridges, and smiled sweetly.

I watched, paralysed and panicked , as he slid down my body, pushing the hem of my shirt up slightly before mouthing at my lower stomach. His lips travelled slowly down, his eyes fixed on my face, watching my reaction meticulously.

He pulled his own face back, sickening smile widening.

"Craig, no!" I blurted in terrifying realization, the adding of two and two at last. He lowered himself slightly, licking teasingly at the head of my cock before his merciless teeth latched down on it.

I almost screamed at the harsh biting pain, my own teeth chewing my bottom lip into chapped oblivion. Craig lifted his head, licking his lips as he stared down at me, and smiled, no doubt at the way I looked entirely scandalised. And returned to his previous position, and experiemented with biting even harder. And longer. And further down, in different places, all the while holding me down, pinned to my back on the bed in his iron grasp.

Hoping for any chance telepathy was a successful form of communication, I willed and willed him to just fucking _stop_. At this point I was probably sterile, only trying to ssquirm out of his grip in fear of castration. But he just kept _biting_ me, teeth sinking into my sensitive flesh and sending waves of excruciating pain everywhere throughout the surrounding area.

And then?

He drew back, looking down at my raw, abused dick, a veil of dark hair shielding his face from my wide eyes.

"C--Craig?"

He tightened his hold on my hips, fingernails digging into the skin, listening apathetically as I whimpered his name.

"Please--"

"Kyle," he growled, crawling forward so that his face was just inches from mine. "Count your fuckin' blessings."

He left it at that, having a knack for ambiguity, and slid off the bed, dusting himself off before he exited the bedroom.


	9. Ch 8 In Return

8. In Return

Anger is a strange emotion.

No, an anti-emotion.

It channels itself into, disguises itself as other things, so it can be released somehow.

It can be anything. Energy. Sadness. Lust. The key, though, is not mistaking it for any of these things. The key for anything is almost always just _knowing_. And I knew. Oh yes, I fucking _knew_, and so did Craig. So why did we blindly feed its absolute need to get out-and in this way? Couldn't we play a sport, or throttle a stuffed animal, or punch a pillow?

Craig's fingers grasped numbly at my waist, the short breaths that left his lips rising visibly in the frigid air. I shivered at the intense cold, pressing against him in a desperate attempt at warmth. His lips grazed past my ear, mouthing blindly at whatever skin they could find. And moaned, this beautiful fucking sound that just made we _want_ him.

Made me angry, and I knew.

My hands were clasped behind his neck as I slid my leg up to further entangle us, feeling an impatient nudging against my inner thigh. My back was pressed firmly to the dividing wall between the two grimy bathroom stalls. And Craig's tongue was in my mouth, oh god, and I hated him for it.

Passively, I let Craig do as he pleased, shutting my eyes and letting the deep-striking pain and the-the _ecstasy_ take over when he fucked me, hard and rough and _angry_.

I let him kiss me afterwards and let him hold me, and left the freezing bathroom stall when the bell rang to signal the end of fifth period. Craig skipped sixth and I went to class, sitting listlessly in my chair just wanting Craig's hands on me, all over me.

Again.

The next day we presented our project (the physics one) and got our lovely grade for being such ardent overachievers (D-) and went home (after convening in the in the bathroom so I could suck him off) and did absolutely nothing.

After not-concentrating on the homework I was supposed to be getting done, Craig, out of nowhere, showed up at my doorstep.

I immediately choked back We Don't Want Any Cookies or something similar, as well as other urges. I _wanted_ to step forward and grab a fistful of his black, black hair and then decide whether to kiss him smack across the mouth or deck him. Though my pride, as per usual, won over any other want.

"Craig?" I asked instead in contemptuous disbelief.

He nodded. "Kyle."

"What are you doing here?"

"I'm here…so we can work on our physics project."

"Excuse me?" I sounded like such a bitch, but whatever.

He watched me, smirking obnoxiously. "The physics project."

"B-b-but we finished that," I stuttered uselessly, internally kicking myself for saying such a remarkably _stupid_ thing. Of course he's not that forgetful; he's just trying to…I don't even know what he has up his thick blue sleeve.

Something, though.

"We need to make some final adjustments," he said, voice low and thick yet totally un-sexy because of the lameness in what he was saying.

"Dude."

"Well, is anybody home?"

"Yes." I folded my arms across my chest stubbornly. _I_ was obviously home, for one. I wasn't outright lying to him.

He raised a dark, slender eyebrow. "Really."

"Really." I ran a hand through my dark red hair, leaning against the side of the doorway casually and blocking his view inside the house.

"Doesn't look like it."

"Does to me."

He looked back at me challengingly. It was _on_. "Lemme see."

"No."

"If you were telling the truth, you'd _want_ me to look."

I sighed. He had a point. "No," I defended weakly, " I just don't want you in my house. So fuck off, please."

"No." He pushed past me into the warmth of the room, looking around with a smirk. My heart sank down slowly into my stomach as he surveyed the area with a less than caring eye.

"Doesn't _look_ like there's anyone here," he repeated, staring holes into my face. "Though I suppose there is now."

I followed him in, letting him reach back and lock the door. There was no point in fighting him, especially after what happened last time.

"So, what'll it be, Kyle?" He asked, voice an arrogant drawl. "The couch or the bed?"

I continued to stubbornly resist. "Neither."

"The kitchen table?"

No.

"The shower."

NO.

"Ooh, I know, the front lawn."

"No, fuck off, I don' wanna go anywhere."

His face lit up at my mistake, smile stretching evilly as he kept gaining power. "Well why didn't you say earlier you just wanna go at it here? I totally understand if you just _can't wait_."

I let him speak, still insufferably cocky as he played with one of the strings on his hat.

"That's not what I meant."

Obviously.

"Ah well. Take your clothes off."

Skeptical, I raised an eyebrow, posing the eternal question: "What's in it for me?"

"_Besides_ having an ass full of my hot cock?"

I glared at him, thoroughly unimpressed. "Yeah, I think I want something in return."

His eyebrows furrowed as he thought, confused by my vagueness coupled with my scheming tone. He knew and I knew that I was planning on getting something out of him. "Like what?"

'I suppose that's open to discussion."

"And I suppose said discussion can take place later."

Please with myself for winning at least a few points against him, I let him approach me. He nuzzled his face into my neck affectionately, hands sliding around my waist and slipping into my back pockets.

"So, the front yard?"


	10. Ch 9 Carpet Burn

9. Carpet Burn

I laid out on my back on the living room floor, breathing in the old, musky smell of the carpet with closed eyes and no desire whatsoever to move. There was nothing waiting that needed my immediate attention (besides stupid horny Craig who _always_ needed my "attention"), and the room was so _warm_. Not to forget that my body was numb and aching and ravaged, soothed slightly by the plush carpet against my skin.

I allowed my eyelids to flicker open, just in time for something to flutter down and land on my bare chest.

A twenty dollar bill. How kind.

My lips found it in themselves to softly, hazily form Craig's name, hand reaching limply up to grasp at the money.

"Stubborn bitch," came the reply. Craig stepped into my view, sitting beside me as he pulled his jacket on without a shirt. I might have destroyed that. "I'm broke, you know that."

"Mn, then get somebody else t'fuck you, Christ," I managed to retort sleepily. "Clyde'll screw a fine ass li' yours. Or Ke-"

Craig became deathly still and tense.

Well, it was an innocent slip of the tongue. I had tried to talk about Kenny with him, and he still (after five days) blandly insisted that Kenny would rise from the dead like he usually did. But then, why was he so _angry_? He _never_ cared when Kenny died, so what was this passionate rage?

Maybe he actually believed me when I told him my point of view-of course, with his screwed up sense of pride and his general insensitivity and stubbornness, he'd never admit it. Maybe.

Maybe Kenny was dead. Dead like any normal person who wasn't immortal.

My fingers mangled the formerly crisp bill, subconscious and unknowing with minds of their own like every other fucking part of me. I felt like screaming-with what, I didn't know. I was just so…there was so much energy, negative energy, building up and-and then what?

Leaking out slowly? Bursting forth in a fit of rage? Staying in bottled up, contained? Would it flow steadily outward, not stopping when we thought it would at all, drowning Craig and I?

Craig looked away.

Silent.

Stoic.

Static, and still, and nothing!

We were both just nothing. Absolutely nothing.

That inexplicable anger began welling inside me again, starting in the pit of my stomach, making me feel that dread, that nausea clambering up into my chest, constricting, and rising into my throat, catching, stopping my breathing.

Out through my mouth in a jumbled sentence that made no sense whatsoever, something I blurted before I could comprehend the _gravity_ of the simple statement.

"I love you."

My mouth went dry, my face white.

Craig stared at me. Nothing.

No more than what I expected. There was nothing I could say either to that blank blue gray stare. He was dead as Kenny.

Seriously, 'Oh yeah, sorry, man, I was possessed by the devil.'

'I mispronounced something'.

'That means hello in Swedish'.

'That was just the TV, not me.'

You're delusional.

You're perfect, only I can't believe I'm even thinking that because you're _not_, and _oh, I hate you! Fuck_!

I lay there in silent turmoil, raging internally at my quite _notable_ stupidity.

Jesus H. _Christ_.

Mary and Joseph and everything holy, I'm fucked.

And finally, after that-that impenetrable silence, that _nothingness_, a word.

"Okay."

God, couldn't he actually _say_ something? Besides, oh, that's nice, Kyle, continue to have a lovely day here in hell. I sat up, crushing the twenty dollar note between anxious fingertips, feeling more completely exposed than I ever had in front of Craig.

Tight-lipped, I looked around for my clothes, painfully embarrassed like I was instead sitting on a lighted stage being watched by thousands of prying, disapproving eyes. Like everybody could see me where I was, a stark-naked mess, confessing things. Like, things that were a huge fucking deal but were probably not even true. And everyone looking at the display of patheticness with Craig's face, and that same expression-blank but not, like the pity and amusement cancelled each other out and left him completely indifferent. The people's eyes were all glazed and still, neck relaxed, not supporting the head but still rigid, dead, their toes just above the ground.

And they were all not just _watching me_, but _judging_ me. Laughing at me. Resenting me, mocking me, pitying me!

He stood up, face still devoid of all anything. "Well, I'd better be going now, so…see you later. If…you know." His eyes flicked to the twenty in the sweating grasp of my fingers like nothing the fuck that happened, having the nerve to just say okay bye now screw you later, hun. "Bye."

And he left.

And that was all.


	11. Ch 10 Friends But Not The Lousy Sitcom

10. Friends (But Not The Lousy Show)

I was up to eighty dollars by Friday and thinking of making success kits for those who need to make money fast. Only 19.99, plus shipping and handling. Easy. Fast. Fun. (That is, unless the "success" is pent up angst over you and your client's mutual best friend committing suicide.) Not to forget that this best friend is alledgedly immortal, of course.

Which Craig says is, and I quote, beside the point, end fucking quote.

I proceeded to glare at him, meaningful eyes trying to drive powerful it-is-the-point into his counterproductive stubborn brain. Which a little birdie told me was _not_ residing in his head. At least not the one sitting on his neck. For a better choice of words, not in his skull. Thing is, I didn't really care as long as the cash kept coming in and the fiasco a few days ago had been forgotten.

Forgotten by him.

I, of course, couldn't think of much else. Why would I _say_ that if it didn't carry a shred of truth, if part of me hadn't wanted to? I had half convinced myself that it was because, well, guess what, I'm _teenaged_, but…still.

Inevitably, that led to what I least expected and should have been able to count on, bet my life on its involvement. Fate. The only thing to expect, ever, is the unexpected! Is, now, anger in all forms. Is life, is coincidence.

The two of which make the deadly thing that is fate.

Thereby leading me to Craig's house, the second time I'd ever been there.

I tried not to think about the first, laying back on his bed and hoping for the best. Not surprisingly he had placed himself next to me on his side, fingers tracing absent patterns on my chest and stomach as I tried to find the same designs in the stucco ceiling.

Each time he tried to start something, leaning in and mouthing at my neck perhaps, or reaching a palm down to rub at the front of my jeans I shrugged him off, telling him he was wasting money. Seriously, I couldn't be _that_ good a lay.

"Why are you making me pay you anyway?" he finally asked, more contemplative, curious than his usual abrasive derision.

What could I say? The only logical answer was "because I don't want to", which I shouldn't have, but was also a big fat fucking _lie_. It _was_ two sided. I hated to admit it, but it was.

"Because we're not friends," I mumbled reluctantly after a moment of tense silence. Craig ran a distracted hand up my clothed thigh, corners of his lips jerking slightly in a subtle frown.

"Okay."

Well, isn't that just the universal response these days.

I wanted to be his friend, I really did. I wanted to be able to just reach out and kiss him so soft and just nothing just because it sounded nice, not promising sex later but just…expressing my…what. I wanted to talk of being sick and sad, of that gnawing not-knowing. But I was afraid people talk about those things with people they love.

I felt horrible for telling him that basically I didn't like him (why I couldn't fathom, because if Craig could be an insufferable asshole so could I).

As if to make up for it, I pressed forward into his warmth, gently brushing my lips past his and silently suggesting more to come.

"You know what, you're right," he murmured past my wandering mouth, pulling himself away and into a sitting position. "Clyde'll fuck me for free. And he's like, my _friend_." He sounded so bitter it would have been funny if I weren't me, in the situation. I had no idea what to say and stayed quiet, looking up at him. He smiled back sadly and slid off the bed.

"Guess I'll see you at school," he exhaled tightly.

He made to walk away, but I didn't want him to. The thought of him even kissing Clyde just repulsed me, even though Clyde was almost hotter than _Stan_ and that should have turned me on just on principle. Besides, I could care less about Craig, right? Maybe it was just because.

"No."

There was no because.

He watched me, expecting, if not just a little put out.

"I don't want you to go."

He raised a sceptical eyebrow, stepping back to the edge of the bed and leaning over to look at me. "Yeah?"

"Yeah. I…won't charge you for…anything. It's stupid cause…I don't know, Craig. I just really like you is all."

"Really, now."

"Yeah, but you have to answer something."

He rolled his eyes, noticeably happier. "Oh dear."

"Why me in the first place?"

He smiled, answering with an impeccably straight face, completely serene and serious. "My other little butt buddy is starting to decay." I ran my fingers up his waist, guiding him over me and kissing his lips lightly. His hand wasted to time in slipping past the hem of my shirt, warm palm resting in the centre of my chest. I glanced down to his crotch, hovering perilously over mine, and laughed softly as he concluded the thought. "He was turning green."

Smirking saucily, he brushed his hands back down, meticulously unbuttoning my jeans and sliding them down my legs. I kicked them off the rest of the way, hooking a leg over his hip and trying to wedge the other between his waist and the bed.

I couldn't know how or why Craig turned me on so fucking much, but it was amazing, and I was loving it. I let an unbridled, whining groan leave me, my needy hips bucking up into him, creating a delirious sort of friction between me and his abdomen.

"God, Kyle," he breathed thickly, forcing back with so much blunt, raw, _gorgeous_ power that it _hurt_. "Jesus Christ."

He pulled me into a deep, hungry, grateful kiss with my legs still wound tight around his waist, hands roving over my hair and back as his tongue fucking raped mine. The hot muscle ran all over the inside of my mouth, feeling the rows of teeth and the hollowed cheeks, flicking against the sensitive spots he knew were just under my tongue and on the roof of my mouth behind my teeth. Greedy and wanting, I shoved both hands down into his pants, shamelessly grasping at the front of his boxers and feeling his erection twitch against my fingers.

I separated numb lips from his with a totally disgusting wet noise, ducking down to bite at his neck and chest as I whimpered his name breathlessly.

"I bet you want my cock inside you," he gasped-without-gasping-cause-he's-too-badass-to-gasp. I nodded enthusiastically, no longer even trying to hide anything.

"I bet you want me to fuck you so fucking hard you won't be able to walk for _days_."

"Oh, yes," I moaned softly, licking up his throat and stopping just before his vile, dirty fucking mouth.

"Yeah."

"Want me to make you bleed, Kyle?"

"Please, Craig. Just do it."

Anything to release the maddening ecstasy building in the pit of my stomach. The anger, the love.

"Fuckin' slut," he growled, unzipping his jeans teasingly and fishing out his hard length. I stared at it, receiving a smirk in return.

"By the way, Ky," he drawled, making me blush at the nickname. "I didn't mind your little hooker games. I have an easy way to make money for free---I'm just a cheap asshole."

"Yeah? What is it?" I asked, positioning myself his erect cock and taking a deep fucking breath.


	12. Ch 11 The New Narrator

11. The New Narrator

My heavy, sticky eyelids cracked open, the blazing sunlight meeting and oppressing my pale eyes, forcing them to close again. I tried again, slowly this time, letting the bright seep in little by little and holding back the instinct to shut the burning out and let the sweet familiar love of darkness take control. My body felt weak and neglected, out of use for weeks.

It's the worst feeling, knowing that for days and days the world goes on and I'm suspended in a not-place, in limbo, oblivious. It's disconcerting and disorienting and downright confusing.

I couldn't believe I was back.

I was given a choice between figurative hell and _literal_ hell, and I chose life, thinking the usual 'hell' that described South Park to its residents was a flagrant and humiliating overstatement of things. Compared to the real thing, of course, which I and only I had lived to tell of.

I think it was Damien, though, that made the choice final.

*

Usually it was just blackness.

Now it was a smiling face framed by shining black hair that looked nauseatingly familiar.

"C-Craig," I stuttered out hopelessly, though I knew it wasn't Craig. I thought the little fucker in front of me had disappeared in elementary school, and he had---from Earth, at least. When people used 'disappeared' it implies places they can't get to, or hear back from.

But the point was, I was obviously not on Earth.

There was no place on Earth this fucking creepy. Blank white space went on forever, and you couldn't tell where it stopped because it was all _the same thing_. A thin boy dressed in dark clothes that contrasted starkly with his surroundings leaned against what I guessed was a wall or a pillar or something, but whatever the cause it blended in with the blank nothingness of the endless room and looked like nothing at all.

There were no corners, no shadows, no darkness, no changes due to my perspective, no anything.

"Hello, Kenny."

His voice echoed, signalling walls. The place must have been pretty big, too.

"I-Is this Heaven?" I asked stupidly. "Cause it d-doesn't---"

"This is Hell," he replied, voice smooth, smile widening to display rows of slightly sharper teeth.

The first thing I thought was, of course, what _everyone_ would be thinking in my position. Where are the flames? Where are the emaciated slaves? Where's the devil? _Where are all the people_?

"Where is everyone," I demanded, finding a stronger voice in the sickening realness of fear.

"What do you mean?" Damien laughed mockingly, deep red eyes gleaming maliciously. "If all your little friendies were here, it would defeat the purpose entirely! Silly Kenny. You have your _very own room_ here in Hell. You're the only one in it. And don't worry, no one will bother you, there's even a cute little Do Not Disturb sign you can hang on the d-door…"

By the end of the statement I could see he was almost beside himself with suppressed laughter at his own remarkably unfunny jokes.

And something was immediately wrong.

"Then why are _you_ here?"

He grinned, glancing up and then giving a disappointed look. "I'm just here to give you a warm welcome to the place you'll be spending the rest of eternity. It only seems right. And then I'll leave and you'll be here, alone."

The last word rang in my ears teasingly. Oh, please no.

"Are there walls?" I asked, the gnawing questions as to the physical qualities of the place seeming like the only things to say. "There must be, there was an echo, I mean---"

He cut me off before I could babble on. "Only if you want there to be."

Tentatively, I reached out to touch the wall Damien was leaning on, my fingertips just swooping unsurely through thin air. Damien pretended to lose his balance, laughing at my ignorance before stepping forward.

"You've changed a lot since I last saw you, Kenny," he murmured, lips closing and the corners turning up in a faint smile.

He slid a finger across my lower lip, holding the bloody fingertip up so I could see before locking eyes with me and deliberately licking the crimson off.

Shakily, I brought a hand up to my chin, realizing that from my mouth and down my neck there was a think flow of blood.

"Did you just _do_ that?" I spluttered, staring at him incredulously (and maybe a bit red-faced).

"No, it was there from when you died."

"O-oh."

He stepped even closer, thin fingers raking through my matted hair and pulling my face forward so it was mere centimetres from mine.

"How'd you die, Kenny?" he asked softly, watching me through half-lidded eyes as I struggled with the question. I stared right back, the sights so strange. The white background, his pale pale face, his jet black hair, and his clothing set everything in grayscale, the scarlet of his irises and the soft pink of his mouth the only colors in sight. They contrasted brilliantly, like some amazing work of art that just left you standing there and staring in awe.

I could see him looking hungrily at my bloodied throat, shying away slightly.

"Wouldn't you know? You're…the son of Satan, you know."

His fingers tightened in my hair. "It's hard to keep track of everyone, you know."

"I killed myself," I stated bluntly.

He looked intrigued, asking me how before he tilted up my chin with his index finger and locked his lips over it to clean me of the blood.

"Ah---I hung---myself."

He removed his mouth just slightly, tongue lingering on my skin and trailing down to lick up the rest of the fluid that ran down my neck. I found myself groaning quietly at the soft warmness, clutching at his black shirt.

"Why?" he asked, barely a whisper, pulling away to study my reaction and reply.

"Craig."

He chuckled softly, not believing me. I could see why.

"That little asshole kid who flips people off? The one with the stupid hat?"

I watched his self-satisfied smirk that said 'well, I'm better than that loser' and looked away. "Yeah."

"There's no more blood," he mused, holding my gaze for a second before his eyes travelled down my body. "Mmm, but it tasted so good."

I felt a vague fear stirring somewhere as I processed the information, but cold eyes snapped up to meet mine, distracting me before I could overthink it. "But that's beside the point, isn't it."

I nodded, swallowing hard.

"Anyway, tell me about little Craiggy."

My fists clenched at his tone, mock-caring and soft. Sickly-sweet.

"What happened?"

I looked down at the "ground", starting to tell the rather short story long. After all, I had eternity and it wasn't like I cared about boring Damien.

_Hidden notions. Studying his perfect faced in class, wanting to touch that soft looking raven hair. At lunch, trying not to look over at his table too much. In the showers after P.E., staring at his thin but defined form, all the features in perfect proportion sans the epically huge cock that had me drooling. The fateful day he caught me staring and threw me up against the tiled wall, the look in his eyes so intense and unreadable I thought he was about to knock me unconscious, smash my faggy face in. When he didn't, just kissed me with those soft looking lips I was always watching, and pressed his naked self against me with silent promises, and then when he walked away and just got dressed like that hadn't just happened---well, I was stunned. I wasn't sure if it had happened. But then after school, he followed me to my car and looked like he wanted to talk about it. I asked him if he wanted to go home with me and he looked like he didn't want to admit it but he said yes anyway. At home we fucked on my bedroom floor and fell asleep in each other's grasp at night. He started spending more and more time at my house, and I loved the time I spent with him, basking in those not-any-longer hidden notions without saying a word, laughing and arguing, having sex, talking about everything under the sun and the ceiling and the canopy of trees by Stark's Pond. We were living within each other. It was too good to be true---suddenly, without warning, Craig detached himself from me. It was like it had always been---and then out of the blue, those words that wanted to do everything that hurt so bad and trying to make it hurt less---we should take a break. He didn't tell me why. I loved him so much. I felt terrible. Kyle, my best friend since forever, said I could talk to him if I needed someone, and I did. I went to his house and opened the door and there was Craig,_inside _him, giving him that same look that he used to give me, Kyle with legs thrown over his shoulders in careless affection coming all over Craig and looking so beautiful, more beautiful than I could ever be. I watched them expressing _their _feelings for each other, murmuring things in caring, low tones and holding each other close. Kyle looked at me, standing in the doorway, an unwanted intruder come to entrench upon their perfect peace, and I tried to say something but couldn't, and I left. I went home; I cried until I couldn't cry. I didn't want to have to feel this gaping hole in my heart and sides, to feel pain racking my mind and body. I was sick of being lied to and left. I was sick of being cold and hungry. I wanted to feel every poor, meaningless, ugly ounce of breath leaving my lungs, so numbingly real. I wanted to leave. And I went…_

"…and I can't believe I did. I love Craig so much still, and that's enough for me. Even if he doesn't give a shit about me, I wanna be there every day to tell him that I love him, and I don't fucking care, and please, I just want back, I'm sorry. I'm sorry."

Damien stared at me with blank red eyes and a superior smirk, knowing he was in charge. He controlled everything.

"You may go back," he amended at last, though that teasing look told me it wouldn't be without complications. "Under one condition."

Wow, I never _ever_ would have expected that in a million jillion years. Nice job being unpredictable, sport. Way to fucking go.

"What would that condition be?" I asked politely through clenched teeth.

He just smiled, licking his lips and watching as I drowned in the suspense and pressure of not knowing. Blank, white, endless nothing stretching on for literal eternity and watching me with tiny white eyes that I couldn't see because they blended in so entirely. They watched and saw and thought, but I could never know.

"Come on, Damien," I pleaded, wanting to get my payment over with. "What do you want?"

He extracted a pocketknife from the black of his jeans, flipping out the slender blade and handing it to me.

"I want blood."

My reflection in the metal looked back at me, asking for reassurance, but what could I do?

"You can't die in Hell, Kenny. We're done with that now."

I took a deep, composing breath inwards, meeting his gaze steadily. "Will everything be back to normal when I'm back to Earth? Like, my body?"

"Exactly as you left it," he replied dutifully, a devilish (no pun intended) smile crossing his angular face. He looked thoroughly, epically entertained. "Hope little Craiggy-poo cut you down from there."

Oh, god, this could be for nothing. Jesus. (Again, I'm not making jokes. There's just a surprising amount of humour in Hell.)

I started, seeing no other options, by holding a trembling hand out in front of me and making a methodical incision in the crease between thumb and forefinger. I cut deep, proceeding to curve the blade across the pad of my palm to the other side. I barely felt anything. There was a faint pain---like in your ankles when you land after jumping from a place just slightly too high---but, that was it.

I was surprised.

Very surprised.

Shouldn't pain worsen here?

I held my dripping palm up to Damien's lips, and he smiled before flicking his soft pink tongue out to taste the metallic liquid. He looked up at me sweetly, crimson eyes dancing as he gingerly lapped at the blood pooling in the centre of my palm. He seemed _extremely_ pleased at my knowledge of where the larger arteries were underneath my skin.

"Oh my god Kenny…s-so good…"

"I know it is," I said softly, not knowing what else to say back. Nothing, I suppose.

He switched from licking to sucking at the thin cut, biting down ever so slightly on the soft skin. I felt a numb tingle in my hand at the blood loss, pressing it forward.

Damien pulled his face away, raising a dark eyebrow at my reactions.

"My, my, Kenny," he reprimanded, crossing his arms and grinning wickedly. "You aren't _enjoying_ this, are you?"

I shook my head mechanically, watching ruby eyes as I slid the knife down the centre of my chest.

*

And so I woke up on the bathroom floor after having my dick cut off and shoved up my dying ass.

Not even comprehending the gravity of the decision I had just made.

Sun streamed in and blinded me, my body bruised on the tiled floor. Someone had cut me down, probably my asshole brother, possibly my asshole ex or asshole friend. If they saw, if they cared.

Carefully, I picked myself up off the cold bathroom tile, feeling dizzy and light and strange. I made my way back into the bedroom, arms instinctively out to the sides as if I might fall. Everything looked so bright; almost as bright as Hell.

I hazily selected a t-shirt from the few to choose from in the set of drawers in the bedroom I shared with Kevin (and once Craig), peeling off the bloody white one I wore and replacing it with the new one. I looked over to the mirror leaning against the wall, cracked and dirty like everything in the house---including the people---and saw that there was still blood on my chin.

Images of roseate lips standing out against black and white background flitted through my mind, that scarily numbing sensation pulsing through me.

Sacrificing myself to the son of fuck Satan was only worth it, though, as long as I left the house as soon as I could.


	13. Ch 12 Returning To Some Level Of Fa

12. Returning To Some Level Of Familiarity

"Kyle?"

Craig stood in the doorway of his bedroom, looking at a spot on the bed next to where I was laying.

"Umhmmm?" I tried to make eye contact and seduce him or whatever but he wouldn't  
look at me. He seemed really nervous about something, fiddling with one of the belt  
loops on his low riding jeans as he spoke in a tone octaves higher than the usual asshole  
drawl.

"Hon, you need to leave. Like now."

Worry stirred in my tired mind, the post-sex drowsiness I had been basking in just kind of evaporating. I slipped off the bed, hastily because Craig just wasn't nervous over nothing, and looked around for my clothes. Craig urged me on in quiet, stressed tones, sounding fucking terrified. Nothing _ever_, and I mean _**ever**_/b got to _him_.

"Cops?" I asked slowly, raising my eyebrows, because hell, you never know what kind of booze and corpses and weapons the guy had stashed throughout his house. Craig was a secretive sort of kid when it came to authority figures-and other kids, I supposed. Maybe he wanted me gone because I was a bad liar and evidence of, what, statutory rape or something. If I was Officer Godfucking Barbrady I'd be suspicious too. (Heaven forbid it be _him_.)

"Ah-I'll explain later."

I yanked my jacket over my shoulders, not bothering with the shirt as I tried desperately to fit into my stupidly tight jeans. When those were (at last) on, Craig cocked his head in the direction of the back door, watching with a meaningful look as I hurried towards the screen door.

He followed, placing warm hands on my shoulders and warm lips on my mouth before slamming the door in my worried face.

I glanced around, a quick scan of the area for police and burglars and whatever _Craig Tucker_ was so damn afraid of. There was nothing, at least that I could see. It wasn't like there was just fucking nothing! I mean, what!

I should have left at that point and gone home and played Gamesphere with Stan or jacked off or did homework, but curiosity always gets the better of people. I stood in Craig's backyard, listening intently and hearing just the faint sound of cows bleating sadly in the distance.

That and an even softer sound, yet much, much closer. It was sobbing. _Craig_ sobbing.

Oh my god.

-

"Kyle?"

Déjà vu, man.

I didn't answer this time, just staying rooted to the spot I had been on the side of Craig's house for the last…hours. I was definitely not supposed to be there.

"The fuck…I heard someone back here-"

His voice was hoarse and shaking, both sad and scared and everything so off-balance that shouldn't have been there.

"Uh, Craig," I answered, guilty of attempted eavesdropping on him and the mystery visitor that was causing so much pain to him.

"Ky, what the _fuck_ are you doing back there?"

I emerged red faced into the backyard, seeing Craig standing on the doorstep, trying for his usual haughty stance but sort of failing miserably. The suspense was killing me, the not knowing. I just wanted to help, I just wanted to be able to understand. I hated not getting things, I always did.

"Um, I don't know." That was pretty much a legitimate answer.

"Can I talk to you?"

"Uh huh." I felt my heart pounding with anticipation, with the prospect of knowledge.

"I need to show you something inside."

I followed him in, feeling very light on my feet. Something about the adrenaline, maybe, or just…I don't know. It was driving me insane. And so I entered to house, seeing a gaunt figure leaning heavily on the counter.

Craig looked at me, our eyes meeting for a second in which I couldn't even think of anything to say. I didn't know what this could mean. It could mean everything, and it could mean nothing. Maybe the past month had just been another strange, heartbreaking, scary as fuck incident in this crazy town. I couldn't be too surprised.

Kenny glanced up at Craig, eyes raising for just a tentative, longing moment before slipping downward again.

"I, um," Craig started, looking nervous again, and so vulnerable. "I…don't really know what to say, uh."

"If it's that you love him still, even after-fuck, leaving and all the shit you did…and I did too-then…I understand…I want you to be happy, Craig."

I wanted to tell Kenny I was sorry, but could only bring myself to speak with Craig.

"I guess that's it."

I saw his throat convulse in a hard swallow, just staring at his neck in avoidance of looking anywhere like his eyes, or at the blonde boy in his cadaverous state.

"Okay."

"I'm sorry, Kyle, I-"

I cut him off, knowing whatever he was going to say would hurt too much. I silently told myself that I was in no way emotionally attached to Craig, because he was a stupid asshole that persuaded me into screwing him and totally messed up my best friend. He didn't matter. And if he did, I would find someone else and forget all about him.

"That's okay, Craig, it really doesn't matter."

He looked almost offended, but I didn't care.

"I know. I was just your way to get money for free."

"It wasn't free," I said softly. "Money's never free."


	14. Ch 13 Hey, Look, A Distraction!

13. Hey, Look, A Distraction!

I would always find myself looking at him. Not at the way strands of raven gently brushed his face in the frigid, totally uncalled for breeze, even though I did picture the wisps laced between my fingers, slipping through like soft black sand, or plastered to his angled face with sweat. Nor was it at the way his simple jeans and t-shirt hugged his slender figure in all the right places, jeans low on his hips and showing off defined legs.

I was instead focusing on those intangible somethings swimming around in his eyes and fluttering, hovering around every involuntary creasing and shifting of that ever-unreadable expression on his pretty fucking face.

He glanced over from his spot against the wall, eyes locking on mine in one open mouthed breathless second, cigarette smoke slowly listing from his lips. Time was just sort of suspended there, hanging and waiting for somebody to look away.

He did, looking inscrutable as he twisted a strand of Kenny's blonde hair around his index finger with the boy's hips pushed into his and staying there.

And Craig just kept looking over at me, between or during soft-spoken words to Ken.

Just like I did him.

It was infuriating.

I kept my eyes trained in his direction, and he just went and shot me the gayest look I ever seen, complete with the batting the eyelashes and sliding his tongue over his lip rather torturously.

"Kyle…"

I let my gaze travel across his body, taking my time with looking down and back up. He purposely rocked his hips up into Kenny's while giving me those sultry verging on disturbing eyes---

"Kyle."

---smiling pointedly as I watched, absoltively positlutely transfixed.

"Ky!"

"Neh?" I turned foggily to face Stan Marsh, who was giving me a thoroughly unimpressed look.

"Did you wanna hang out, or are you just gonna stare at Craig's ass?"

"Both, maybe," I commended, earning a playful eyeroll and something of a pout.

"If you wanted to go get coffee from Harbucks or something, we'd better go before class starts again, or we could just play basketball here. Or whatever, you know."

"I don't care," I mumbled, following him in silent indecision, looking back and seeing Craig mouth something unreadable from here.

I just kept walking.

-

Skin hit tile painfully, the look in Craig's eyes unsatisfyingly blank as I pinned him up against the wall. Though that hint of a smirk would do for emotion for now.

I watched a few beads of water cling to the ends of his hair and fall to his shoulders, the steady gush of water from the shower head making a steady noise behind me as I spoke.

"What the fuck, Craig."

"The only way to win a war," he mused to himself, "is to have been in your enemy's too-loose shoes, to feel their battle cry ripped from your throat…"

I had no idea what the fuck he was talking about, or what movie he stole it from, and I didn't care. I just wanted to know what he was up to.

"Craig, what---_what_ was that about at lunch?"

He shrugged in a lame attempt at innocence. "What do you mean?"

"_Don't_," I growled through gritted teeth, cause at that point I was _pissed_. "_Even. Try._ To tell me you don't know. Don't even fucking _**try**_/b.

"Nothing," he said, eyebrows lifting like I was missing something obvious. "I can _look_ at you without you freaking, right?"

I was silent, and he shifted uncomfortably, hard cock pressing into my thigh. I was so thoroughly done with him.

"Kenny came back to life for you," I told him coldly. "He chose this shitty life over peacefully rotting in the ground for you. This fucking hellhole of a town, because he _loves_ you, Craig."

He looked a little guilty, kind of looking at the wall on the other side of the shower and avoiding my eyes.

Disgustedly, I detached myself from him, watching as that superior look took over his face again and he waltzed away across the locker room, calling for Kenny and _totally_ not caring what he looked like and who saw him: completely naked, almost completely hard, and _so_ undignified.

Goddamn.

I couldn't believe he could be so _apathetic_ after supposedly learning his lesson. That _was_ what was supposed to happen, right? He took something for granted, and then it was taken from him, and he realised how much he needed it? Maybe that wasn't what happened. Maybe Kenny was just another boy to him.

Just like me.

It was unbelievable.


	15. Epilogue

Epilogue: Money

Amazed maybe wasn't the right word. Disbelieving almost described it. Shocked. Horrified. Incredulous. Incensed.

Everyone hated Craig Tucker for one thing or another, and I hated him the most. He was evil, down to the very bone, at least from what I could tell. Maybe he was just "different", born without feelings or something, but then that didn't mean he had to go screw people over.

Especially people that loved him more than anything in the universe and beyond.

He didn't have to go promise people shit, and then break all these promises because he was an emotionless freak and a general asshole.

He had me so convinced that there was something there, in all those underlying things, that there was some sort of struggle, some sort of grieving when Kenny died. Maybe he was _pretending_ he wasn't evil, or maybe he was just manipulating me.

Maybe he just never learns.

He was the one supposed to be taught life lessons, not me, but I think I ended up with them all and none to spare for Craig.

Never trust fate, or Craig Tucker, for that matter. Or yourself. You'll end up fucked.

And never make a deal with the devil. He gets your soul, and you just get some lousy  
money, and that's not a fair trade at all.

And, first and foremost, never forget your jacket at home in South Park, because it's fucking cold out.


End file.
